Be Careful What You Wish For
by Carla K
Summary: Words spoken in haste lead Kid Curry on a nightmarish adventure.


**__**

Be Careful What You Wish For

An "Alias Smith and Jones" Story By Carla Keehn

This story is written for entertainment purposes only, not profit, and is not meant to infringe on any existing copyrights.

* * * *

The wind whipped furiously around the two lone riders as they looked down on the town of Red River from the craggy bluff above.

Even at that distance, the blond haired outlaw, Kid Curry, could spot the brightly decorated storefronts and homes of Red River. The sight of the holiday trappings rankled at him that third week of December. 

His partner, Hannibal Heyes, shivered and pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck. His dark eyes scanned the vista below intently for a moment. "What do you think, Kid? Red River looks like as good a place as any to bed down for the night."

Curry shifted impatiently in his saddle, than leaned forward. "I'm not so sure, Heyes. What makes you think that those two deputies we ran into will give up so easily?"

"No reason in particular, just a hunch I have. We haven't seen anyone tracking us for a while."

Curry sighed. It was hard to argue with Heyes. His natural outlaw instincts were rarely wrong when it came to figuring out what the law might do. And heading for town meant enjoying the luxuries that the local hotel and saloon had to offer. After camping outside for the past week, the Kid realized that the prospect of sleeping in a comfortable bed should appeal to him. 

But this time was different. This time arguing with Heyes felt like the right

thing to do . . . 

Not so long ago, Curry and Heyes were the most famous of bank and train robbers. Famous not only because of the ease with which they had committed their crimes but also because they had never once taken a life during a robbery. It was a profitable way to make a living, for a while. 

Gradually, though, the world changed. When the bank examiners and insurance companies decided that being robbed didn't suit them, the bank vaults and money cars, suddenly became harder to break into. Without warning, their easy way of making a living had become more complicated and more dangerous then either of them liked. 

Then the offer of an amnesty had come from the Governor. But the Governor's generous gift of a complete pardon for their crimes had come with a price - Not only did the two reformed outlaws have to stay out of trouble and out of the news, it also meant that their days of easy living were over. Their life changed into a nomadic existence of traveling from town to town, eking out a living until the Governor decided that the two had earned their amnesty. 

The idea of living normally, for one night, caused him to shudder. It was hard to know why. The two men had been traveling for a long time, knowing that they could never put down roots permanently, that a new destination was always waiting for them. 

_What would it be like_, the Kid mused as he studied the town below, _to live there_? _To live without always looking over your shoulder for the law or some bounty hunter, looking to collect a reward? _Curry sighed. Neither he nor Heyes could afford the luxury of dreaming about what life would be like when the running stopped. It was easy to avoid those thoughts, except at this time of year. When no matter where they went, every town was decorated with brightly lit windows and laughing, happy people who looked forward to celebrating the holidays. 

For some reason, this time felt different. True, they'd been on the move for a longer stretch than usual this time. Maybe it was the impending holiday or fatigue. It was difficult to tell. Curry had struggled with his feelings for the past week, trying to sort out exactly what was wrong. Deep inside, though, he was certain of one thing - - that if the two of them went into Red River, Heyes would be leaving alone. 

The whole idea of the two separating was normally out of the question. Friends from their youth, the two men had too much time invested in their friendship to even consider doing such a thing. 

But this time was different . . .

"Kid, are you listening?" Heyes was annoyed. It was too cold for daydreaming.

"Yeah," Curry growled, "I heard you." He gave his partner a steely look. "I vote we avoid Red River and make camp for the night."

"Oh? Then would you mind tellin' me why you've spent the last two days complaining about having to sleep outside?" Heyes' face darkened. "You're really starting to rile me, Kid!"

Curry's hackles rose. At the moment, lashing out at his friend seemed easier than trying to explain what he felt inside. "Yeah, well it's funny that you'd say that, Heyes, 'cause lately I've been thinking the same thing about you. " 

"About me! I think being out here has made you loco!" Heyes jaw tightened "Listen to me - those are snow clouds just above the ridge there and there's no sense in bein' out in the weather if we can help it."

Curry drew himself up defiantly. "I'm glad you brought that up 'cause right now I ain't even sure that there's much sense in our bein' out here at all!"

Exasperated, Heyes shook his head. "You saw the wire from Lom Trevors, asking us to be in Porterville by the 25th!"

Curry's insides knotted. They'd be hard pressed to make Porterville by then, if that posse continued to dog them. "Why does Lom want us there? I've been askin' myself that ever since we got that wire. How do we know that it's not a trap – we could walk into his office and end up behind bars and you know it - -"

The outburst caught Heyes off guard. "What are you talking about? It was all there in the wire about Lom asking us to spend the holidays in Porterville. Which you have to admit is pretty decent of him, considering that he's the law. Besides, Lom's a friend and he doesn't need to drag us all the way back to Porterville to do his duty - if he wanted to lock us up that bad, all he'd have to do is wire the law out here and have them do it!" 

Heyes' words were wasted on Curry. "I think that its time we thought about goin' our separate ways – I think that might be the best thing for both of us!" The Kid continued. "I've been telling you all along that you'd be better off trying for the amnesty without me. Face it, Heyes, I'm not cut out for a life like this, always on the run, never putting down roots anywhere . . ."

"Let's not bring that up again!" Heyes shouted. He was too cold and too tired 

to cover that ground again with Curry. In their worst moments, the two frequently debated about the amnesty and the life that it meant living. 

"Like it or not, Heyes, we're going to bring it up!" A fury had been unleashed inside of Curry that wasn't going to be stopped. "I'm tired of living like this and what do we have to show for it? A promise that SOMEDAY we might get an amnesty!"

"So what are you saying? You're gonna go down there to Red River, put down roots and forget about our friendship? Forget about everything that has happened in the past?" Heyes threw his hands up in disgust. "You're crazy – you know that, don't you? We've been over this time and time again, Kid – no amount of talking is going to change the fact that this is the way we have to live, at least for the time being!"

Curry listened stone faced, determined not to give in to Heyes' persuasive words.

Heyes took a deep breath. The Kid's mood was worse than he thought. Shouting wasn't going to accomplish anything. The expression on Heyes' face softened. "All I'm trying to say is that you wouldn't last a month living in a place like Red River – doing the same thing, day in and day out, and you know that I'm tellin' you the truth!" He reached over and gave his friend an encouraging thump on the shoulder. "Besides," Heyes continued, jabbing Curry to drive home his point, "we agreed early on to stick together and I'm holding you to that. I don't like living this way anymore than you do but it's only temporary, till the amnesty comes through."

"IF it comes through," Curry added sarcastically.

"WHEN it comes through," Heyes shot back. The angry words that they'd spoken hung heavily between the two friends. Heyes decided that there had been enough talking. There'd be time enough later to reason with Curry after his dark mood passed. "All right, Kid, if you want to make camp instead of staying in town, that's what we'll do. At least let's try to find something under cover."

A short time later, the two had made camp for the night. Heyes hunched his shoulders against the cold, warming his hands in front of the meager flames of the fire. He took the coffeepot off of the grate and poured some of the muddy brew into a tin cup. He glanced over at Curry who was settled back against his bedroll, staring up at the darkening sky.

"I'll take first watch," Heyes grumbled, irritated that he'd given in and let the Kid talk him into passing up the opportunity sleep indoors for the night. "Get some rest, maybe it'll improve your disposition some."

Curry remained silent. He knew it would take more than a good night's rest to rouse him from the blackness that clutched at his soul. It would be better, he thought, to stay awake and try and work through his troubled thoughts.

__

I don't care what you say, Heyes, I wish that you and me had split up . . . The Kid's eyes closed. No matter what his friend thought there was always the chance that the Governor would change his mind and that the pardon they needed would never come through. Besides, of the two of them, he knew that Heyes would have the best chance at getting the amnesty. _No amount of talkin' with that silver tongue of yours is gonna change the way I feel, Heyes . . ._

Minutes later, Curry's thoughts quickly became incoherent. A warm feeling crept over him and then came the darkness . . .

* * * *

It was the smell of baking biscuits and freshly brewed coffee that forced the Kid to the faintest edges of consciousness. He settled back and savored the moment, not remembering that such cooking skills were beyond what he and Heyes were able to muster up.

Curry was just nestling himself deeper into the comforting folds of the thick coverings that enveloped him when a voice interrupted his blissful state.

"Wake up, Thaddeus," the woman's soft voice crooned. "There's a customer waiting for you in the shop – a stranger - -"

"Go away," Curry murmured in annoyance. A warm bed and the delicious smell of food - this was one dream that he didn't want to be interrupted from. 

A silky hand gently stroked his face. "Now, Thaddeus, we can't afford to scare away any customers. You said so yourself, when you went over the accounts, remember, honey?" The woman sighed. "Besides, no husband of mine is going to pass up a chance for an honest day's work!"

__

Husband . . . The word shocked Curry into wakefulness abruptly. His breathing quickened slightly as his eyes flickered around the room.

The Kid tried to tell himself that what he saw was nothing more than a dream. It had to be a dream . . .

Curry shifted himself up and did a double take as he realized that he wasn't in the thin bedroll that he'd gone to sleep in. The bedroll was gone, replaced by a worn, but comfortable, overstuffed chair sitting by a roaring fire. The sudden movement of his body caused the heavy, handmade comforter that was tucked up around him to fall to the floor.

The room was small, but the touches of home that graced its walls made up for that. Over the fireplace, the Kid saw a sampler with the words "God Bless Our Home" stitched on the bottom. 

The woman was speaking to him again. "Thaddeus, what's wrong? You don't seem like yourself today . . ."

Curry felt her slender arms around his neck and gave the woman an appreciative once over. She was pretty with auburn hair that framed her face in tiny ringlets. 

Her wide brown eyes were staring back at him in concern. The woman continued speaking, lovingly. "You can tell me, honey, after all, I'm your 

wife . . ."

The woman's appearance only made him more certain that he was dreaming – the only females that he and Heyes normally saw were the ones that worked in the saloons. His imagination had certainly run wild this time, no doubt fueled by his earlier discussion with Heyes about their life on the run. Curry remained silent, reluctant to let go of the warmth of the room or the love that was being expressed for him. This was one dream that he'd be sorry to part with it. 

"Nothing's wrong." He replied after a long moment. Curry ran a shaky hand through his hair. It was best to play along with the situation until he could figure out what was going on. "You said something about a customer - - in the shop?"

She nodded then gave him a lingering kiss. "Yes, a stranger. Said he rode in all the way from Porterville to see you." 

Curry swallowed hard. "Porterville?" Lom Trevors was the only person that he and Heyes knew in Porterville. 

The woman became more animated. "I told you that a leatherworks shop would pay off for us one day – pretty soon the customers will be coming from all over to see us!"

As the Kid listened, new, and more disturbing, thoughts crept into his mind. _Maybe this isn't a dream at all . . ._ Curry rose hastily got to his feet. Something could have happened while he was sleeping. It struck the Kid that he might have been knocked out and Heyes had left him with the woman while he went for help. Or maybe Heyes was in trouble . . .

But if that were true, why would the woman claim to be his wife. And what did all that talk mean about running a shop? There had been rare moments by the fire when he and Heyes had allowed themselves to imagine what life would be like after the amnesty came through. 

In the end, they had decided that managing a saloon would be a good venture. There wasn't a gambler alive that could beat Heyes at poker, at least not fairly. Next to bank and train robbing, managing a saloon was the most attractive way for the two reformed outlaws to make an honest living. 

Curry hoped that the person outside had the answers he was looking for. 

"I'd best see what the gentleman wants," the Kid said. 

She smiled at him softly. "Don't be too long – I was hoping not to have to share you with anyone at Christmas."

Curry stiffly moved to the roughly hewn door and opened it. He took a deep breath of the brisk winter air and stepped outside.

__

It can't be Christmas . . . The Kid's mind was growing more and more confused with each passing second. In the wink of an eye, he'd lost a week of his life, with no explanation. 

__

I'll close my eyes . . . he thought as the brisk, wintry air slapped at his face. _And when I open them, I'll wake up and all of this will be gone . . ._

But he was wrong. The world around him remained unchanged. The Kid glanced around. The building that he'd just left was the main house of a small ranch. The years hadn't been kind to the house or the buildings that dotted the landscape around it but Curry could see that someone was still working the property. A modest spread, the Kid thought, but certainly enough to keep a man fed and comfortable. 

The Kid saw a horse tethered outside of one of the sheds. His hand instinctively traveled down and lingered, for a moment, at the gun holstered at his side. He was grateful for the presence of at least that one familiar thing, even if it was a firearm.

The man inside the shed was standing with his back facing the door. But that didn't matter. Curry knew who it was immediately.

"Lom?" His hand flexed nervously over the gun butt. 

The tall, lanky form turned slowly. Sheriff Lom Trevor's weathered features gave a passing glance at Curry's gun then shook his head.

"You won't be needing that, Kid. I'm not here on that kind of business, not today."

Relieved, Curry let out a shaky breath and relaxed. "Good." He motioned to their surroundings. "What is this place, Lom? And where's Heyes?" The questions continued to pour out. "And that woman, she says she's my wife – Maybe you can tell me what's goin' on around here!"

"Confusing, ain't it, Kid?" Trevors nodded slowly. "Well, I reckon you're entitled to some answers." He looked thoughtful for a moment.

Curry shifted impatiently. "Well, go on, I'm listening!" 

The long-time lawman put up a hand to silence the Kid. "There's not much to tell, actually. Where is the easy part – this spread is located a few miles outside of Red River. Not much to look at, but if a man's willing to put some muscle into the place and get his hands dirty, there's a chance of makin' a life here." He paused and gave a vague shrug. "As for the rest of it . . ."

"C'mon, Lom," Curry prodded. "Heyes is the patient one, not me – so keep explaining!"

"Yeah, I know," Trevors drawled. "It's always amazed me how well you and Heyes fit together – the two of you, lookin' out for each other, keepin' each other straight." He sighed. "But the life you and Heyes had is over, Kid - -the running is over. That's what I was sent here to tell you."

Curry looked dumbfounded. Finally he found his voice. "What are saying, Lom? You mean the Governor finally decided to grant us that amnesty?"

Trevors shook his head. "No, Kid, I'm not here on the Governor's behalf. I'm workin' for someone else at the moment." 

Curry's shoulders slumped. Lom wasn't making any more sense than anything else that he'd seen or heard so far. 

"Kid," Trevors continued, "or I should say, Thaddeus, you made a wish earlier. A wish that someone has decided to make come true." 

"A wish?" The words he'd whispered earlier suddenly surfaced in his mind. "A wish – you mean about Heyes and me splitting up?"

Trevors nodded. He gestured grandly. "A year has passed since you said those words, Thaddeus." 

"What?" The Kid shook his head. "Look, this hasn't been a good day and I'm not in the mood for any games, Lom. So maybe you'd better start talkin' some sense!"

"I am talking sense to you, Kid. All of this, this ranch, this life – it's yours. Red River is a small town. Folks here mostly keep to themselves and mind their own business. You won't have any problem building a life here. Then when the Governor grants you that amnesty, you can take what you've built up here, free and clear." He nodded towards the house. "Your wife, Amelia, she's a good woman, the finest wife a man could ask for."

__

A year . . . A year of his life had disappeared in mere seconds. Curry's thoughts were in turmoil. _Heyes and I made camp outside of Red River, just that afternoon . . . _He shook his head, trying to clear it. 

Lom Trevors was speaking again. His low, gravely voice broke into Curry's troubled thoughts.

"Well, Thaddeus? Looks to me like you're a man who has it all at the moment."

"I still don't understand why, Lom – or how . . ."

Trevors shrugged again. "There's some questions that I reckon neither one of us will ever get the answers too, my friend." In a way, I envy you, Thaddeus – not too many men get a second chance to start over in life. I'd be mighty careful if I were you and make good use of what you've been given."

The Kid still wasn't satisfied. "But what about Heyes? Doesn't he fit into this? I know I said that I wanted us to try for the amnesty separately but . . ."

Trevors looked away. "It's possible that your paths might cross again. But, and I'm tellin' you this for your own good, Thaddeus, it would be better for you to forget about Heyes."

"Why?"

"Well," Lom said, sighing heavily. "Let's just say that, were you to meet up with him again, you might find that the friendship the two of you shared was different and leave it at that." Trevors gave Curry an encouraging rap on the shoulder. "Well, my friend, I've got to be moving on. Take care of yourself – and stay out of trouble." Then he turned and began slowly walking back to his horse.

"But, Lom, wait! What happens now?" 

The Sheriff continued on, his steps never faltering. He turned toward Curry one last time before mounting his horse.

"This is the life you wished for, Thaddeus, live it. That's what happens now - you live it - -"

A few minutes later, both horse and rider disappeared over a hill. The Kid let out a shaky breath. He was trapped. Trapped in a distorted picture of reality that made no sense at all. Curry was tempted, for a moment, to go back into the house and try and disappear into its comforting walls.

But he couldn't. Amelia, _his wife_, was there, waiting for him. He cursed Lom Trevors for putting him in such an uncomfortable position. 

Trevors visit had unleashed a torrent of conflicting emotions inside of Curry – and left him with many unanswered questions. He had wished for a life apart from Heyes but . . .

Doubt and uncertainty stabbed at him. Maybe it was all a dream. If he did go back into the house and settle himself down again in the chair by the fire, would everything around him change? Would he wake up and be with Heyes again on that ridge above town?

Then another thought entered his mind, something that he'd been afraid to think before. If it wasn't a dream, then maybe, just maybe, he was dead . . .and this was some kind of punishment for the life that he and Heyes had led before . . . 

Curry managed a smile. Dumped in the middle of the life of an average, everyday rancher. The kind of person that he and Heyes had taken advantage of many times over. An odd way for Lady Luck to settle accounts but somehow it fit, given the earlier circumstances of his life.

Curry suddenly gathered himself up and made a decision. Punishment or not, he wasn't facing anything else until he had a drink inside of him. The Kid saddled up one of the horses in the barn and slowly began plodding towards Red River . . .

* * * *

A half an hour later, Curry's horse was sauntering down the muddy road that ran through the center of Red River. The town was buzzing with activity on that overcast day.

It had been over a year since he and Heyes had been in Red River. There wasn't much there to speak of, despite all of the activity and life he saw. Curry wondered why Lom had chosen to put him there, of all places. Red River was a working town that was supported by small ranchers and miners. There was money in the town but it wasn't shared with the working class and the appearance of the town reflected that. Even the festive wreaths and other holiday decorations that he saw couldn't hide the rutted road and dilapidated facades of the buildings. There was one saloon, a broken down hole in the wall type of place that served the strongest rotgut whiskey he'd ever tasted. Given a choice, there were other towns the Kid would have picked to start a new life in.

Settling down . . . He'd complained to Heyes that life on the run didn't appeal to him. But with his sudden change of circumstances, he was beginning to regret what he'd said earlier. 

His thoughts strayed for a moment to the woman who was waiting for him back at the ranch – _his _ranch. Every now and then the idea of a wife and family had crept into their conversation – but not often. Not being attached to any one particular female made it easier to move on when the time came. Family or no family, neither one of them had ever pictured a future without the other being nearby. 

There was loud music blaring out of the saloon as Curry rode up. He dismounted and gave the horse an affectionate pat as he looped the reins around the hitching post. 

The saloon was dark inside. Curry leaned on the bar and stared morosely at the tattered gold paper that was peeling off of the wall.

"Whiskey?" The burly bartender growled.

Curry nodded.

The bartender's gnarled hand shoved the shot glass down in front of him. Curry fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then tossed a couple of coins on the bar. 

"Leave the bottle," the Kid said.

As he drank, Curry listened to the voices that filtered towards him from the other end of the bar.

" . . . a big day not only for the Sheriff, but also for the whole town . . ." the high-pitched voice intoned. "It's not everyday that a famous outlaw is captured in Red River . . ."

"Famous outlaw?" The tenor voice asked dumbly. "Ain't that somethin! Guess that means that Sheriff Madison's gonna have a hard time gettin' that swelled head of his through the saloon doors!" The two roared with laughter for a moment. "You sure it's the same man, the one described in the poster?"

"I'm tellin' you the honest truth, Seth! You don't believe me, you go to the Sheriff's office and look – he's got Hannibal Heyes locked up in there . . ."

Curry swallowed hard and glanced around uneasily. The two men he'd been listening to were sitting at the end of the bar, drinking and talking like nothing was wrong. The bartender had moved away to serve some customers at one of the tables. 

The men were speaking again. " . . . heard some folks talkin' over at the Mercantile today. They was sayin' that we might go ahead and treat ourselves to a Christmas hangin'. . ."

The other man snorted in reply. "Been a while since we had one of them. Might save the town some money, not havin' to feed that fella 'til the circuit judge arrives next month. If the Sheriff was smart, he'd make that fella tell us where all the money he stole is buried before they string him up!"

"I reckon we could figure out a way to keep that money for ourselves - -" One of the men guffawed loudly and gave the table a hearty thump. "Well, with Christmas a week away, we gotta get busy then – we need to build us a hangin' gallows . . ."

The Kid drained the glass, his hand tightening around it until the knuckles were white. The world around him was growing murkier and murkier. Heyes was in trouble. Lom's disturbing words about steering clear of his partner briefly surfaced in Curry's mind, but were quickly dismissed. Curry couldn't abandon his friend. First thing was to make sure it really was Heyes locked up in that jail and not someone just claiming his friend's identity. 

The whiskey was already working on his stomach, spreading through it like an inferno. He pushed the glass away and left the saloon.

The Sheriff's office wasn't hard to find. He stood outside for a moment, suddenly reluctant to enter. He and Heyes had made a career out of avoiding the law – old habits were hard to break.

Curry took a deep breath, then pushed the door open. As he stepped into the sparsely furnished office, the Kid mentally sorted through the names of lawmen that he and Heyes had met before, hoping that Red River wasn't connected to any of them.

The Kid glanced around cautiously. For once, Lady Luck was on his side – the Sheriff wasn't there.

There was an arched doorway in front of him and the jail cells just beyond that. Just as Curry started towards them, he heard a voice speak to him.

"Come to take a look at the prisoner?" The voice was hard. "I told you before that, if I ever saw you again, I'd kill you - -"

The Kid jerked to a stop. The venom laced into the speaker's words was unexpected . . . and frightening.

"Heyes?" He called out into the gloom. 

"That all you've got to say?" Then Heyes suddenly appeared out of the darkness, his hands twisting convulsively on the bars as he spoke. "Not much of a greeting, considering that I haven't laid eyes on you for a year."

His partner's condition was painful for Curry to see. Heyes looked haggard, his complexion sallow, and his face unshaven. And his eyes . . . Instead of friendship, the Kid was shocked at the look of total hatred that burned brightly, like a fever, in his partner's brown eyes.

The Kid inwardly grimaced as Heyes continued to snarl at him from behind the bars.

"Come closer, _friend_," Heyes taunted sarcastically. "I've waited a long time to pay you back for running out on me! Or don't you have the stomach to face me like a man - -"

Curry sucked in a painful breath. Heyes' unexpected verbal attack was making it hard to think. "No, Heyes, we're partners, we made a deal to stay together."

Heyes laughed bitterly. "That's right, throw my own words back at me, Kid! We had a deal – which you broke, remember? A year ago today, wasn't it?" He glared at Curry in a murderous rage. "And for what? Because you decided to set yourself up in Red River instead of waiting for the amnesty to come through? How could you do that, Kid, after everything we've been through together? I guess our friendship never meant much to you!"

"No, Heyes, no - -" Curry swallowed hard. 

He continued his tirade. "So I got to thinking and decided to come back here - - to kill you." The words hung heavily between them. "I figured you owed me that, at least, after taking off like you did. I heard that you'd set yourself up pretty good, getting married, workin' your ranch. Did you ever once stop to think about what your leaving did to me?"

It was painfully obvious now why Lom Trevors had encouraged him to forget about Heyes. But it was too late for the Kid to turn away. The ties that bound the two men were too tightly laced together for him to do that, despite the painful onslaught of his friend's words. 

"What did it do to you?" Curry said, finally finding his voice.

Heyes lunged at the bars again with the fury of a caged animal. "That's right, keep goading me, Kid, cause it's just gonna make me enjoy getting back at you that much more!" Heyes shook his head in disgust. "All right, you wanna know what happened after you left? I was making a decent living at poker for a while, till I hit a dry streak of luck. I didn't care much for starving, so I decided to pull one bank job - - just one - - just to get enough money to hold me, 'til I could get some steady work."

Curry felt a sinking feeling inside. "No, Heyes, not that . . ." The Kid recalled how, every now and again, one of them had been tempted to fall back on their old way of making a living. But the other had always been there, to prevent that.

"I had to do it, Kid." There was desperation in the man's voice. "I almost pulled it off too." The anger left the man's face and the old Heyes that the Kid knew returned for a moment. "We were smart to get out of the business when we did. The good old days of just hitting a train or safe are long gone. The lock on the safe was different from what I was used to. By the time I figured it out it was too late."

"That took care of the offer of amnesty from the Governor . . ." Curry whispered.

The fury returned with a vengeance. "Because of YOU - -We always kept each other on the straight and narrow, Kid – if we'd been together, I never would have thought about pulling that job!" Heyes' arm shot through the bars. "I busted out of the jail over there in Yuma – I've come a long way to collect what you owe me! And don't think that these bars are gonna protect you - -I plan on wringing the life out of you, first chance I get! I'm a dead man now – I've got nothing left to lose by killing you!"

The image of Heyes, angrily trying to grab at him from the bars, firmly etched itself into Curry's mind. His friend had pulled him back from the brink more times than he cared to remember. And yet when Heyes needed to be pulled back from that same precipice, the Kid wasn't there . . .

Curry staggered, overwhelmed by what he'd seen and heard. The walls of the Sheriff's office felt as if they were closing in, sucking the breath out of him. He turned towards the door.

"Coward!" Heyes shouted viciously. "Go ahead, run out on me again – I'm going to kill you, Kid - - if it's the last thing I ever do - - I'll KILL you - -"

He didn't remember how he got there but it wasn't long after that he saw the welcoming lights of home, his home. After everything that had happened to him that day, Curry was grateful for the loyalty of his horse and the animal's ability to get him out of town with little direction from the rider.

Still reeling from his meeting with Heyes, Curry numbly dismounted from the horse and staggered into the house.

Exhausted both mentally and physically, the Kid slumped down in the chair by the fire. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was Heyes' face and the hatred he saw burning in his friend's eyes . . .

* * * *

A time of rest followed but it was fitful, at best, and did not provide the refreshment and healing that Curry's body craved. There was no refuge, even in sleep, from the hideous images of a frenzied Heyes, hell bent on taking revenge on Curry. 

As he hovered between the oblivion of sleep and wakefulness, memories of his visit with Heyes flooded his mind. If the townspeople had their way, Heyes was going to be hung in a week. But a week was a long time. Time enough, the Kid hoped, to sort his feelings and decide what his next move should be.

The next few days passed quickly. Curry spent long hours attending to the seemingly endless list of chores that needed to be done around the ranch. As he dragged his tired body to the house at the end of the second day, the Kid realized that Heyes had been right - the novelty of his new life had quickly faded. 

He rose each morning before the sun and labored long and hard at the many jobs that a small rancher faced. And then there were the many interruptions, sprinkled throughout the day, by people bringing work to the shop. His days were busy but there was sameness to them that rankled Curry. His heart wasn't in either the workings of the ranch or the leather shop and that, more than the hard work, wore him down.

His wife, Amelia, stayed at a distance, somehow knowing that time alone with his thoughts was what he needed. Distant but silently supportive. She was waiting for him at the end of day with a smile and gentle words of encouragement about the ranch. The house was always clean and inviting and a hot meal was always on the table waiting for him. 

Her love for him was obvious and freely offered, his for the taking, had he desired it. But satisfying any physical needs that he might have felt paled in comparison to his current situation. Like ranching, being with the same woman day in and day out went against his grain and he never felt tempted to take what she was offering. 

Still, a small part of Curry was grateful for the labors each day presented, so he could work off the avalanche of emotions that he was experiencing. His encounter with Heyes and discontentment with being a rancher chipped away at him, bit by bit, like a pick on solid rock. Anxiety became his constant companion. 

On the third day, he decided to go into town for supplies, to put some distance between him and the ranch. The sight of a half-constructed gallows, sitting in the middle of town, sent a chill through him.

__

Why should I care about what happens to Heyes. . . the Kid thought. His eyes looked up. The decking of the gallows was finished. A couple of days more and it would be completed, towering over the town square like a bird of prey. Heyes had made it clear that there was no shred of friendship left between the two of them. Curry was safe in his new life so why should he worry about what was going to happen to his partner? 

"You're a stubborn man, Thaddeus, too stubborn for your own good." The unexpected sound of Lom's voice interrupted Curry's thoughts.

Trevors was standing beside him, staring at the Kid through concerned eyes. 

Overwhelmed by the frenetic pace of his thoughts, it never occurred to Curry to question how the Sheriff got there. 

"You look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders, my friend," Trevor's commented.

"Thanks to you, Lom!" Curry spat back. "Why didn't you tell me about 

Heyes . . . what he would be like . . ."

Trevor's eyes narrowed sternly. " No one forced you to go to that jail. I told you to steer clear of Heyes but you decided not to heed my warning."

"I had to go, Lom, you know that!"

"You're not obligated to do anything for Heyes and YOU know that, Kid. You're safe here, as long as you use your head and don't take any stupid chances. Besides," Lom continued dryly, "why would you consider helping a man who has promised to kill you, the first chance he got?"

Curry shook his head in denial. "Heyes wouldn't do that . . . he couldn't . . ."

"Are you sure, Thaddeus? Sure enough to risk everything that you have here?" Trevors shook his head. "A man's got to be careful what he wishes for. Hard to figure, isn't it? We spend our days wondering what it would be like if our lives could take a different turn only to find out that we were better off not wondering at all. Just something for you to think about, Thaddeus." 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that he was again alone. B_e careful what you wish for . . . _The two reformed outlaws had spent many hours discussing the many twists and turns their lives had taken. Trevor's words unleashed a floodgate of memories that suddenly flooded his mind . . .

Like the time that he'd been sick with pneumonia when he and Heyes had been snowed in up the mountains one winter. The two reformed outlaws had been panning for gold and hadn't noticed the change in season. There was a doctor among their group who'd told Heyes to forget about taking care of Curry and concentrate instead on digging a grave for him. 

Heyes ignored the man's words and spent almost a week at Curry's beside, nursing him through the crisis. Then there was the time the two had been robbed and left for dead in the desert. He'd resigned himself to death and being food for the buzzards, but Heyes never gave up hope and forced the Kid to continue on. 

And then there were the countless number of times that he'd let his impatience and quick temper get the best of him. Those were the times that he'd been tempted to let his gun do the talking for him. After all, he was Kid Curry, the fastest gun in the West - - he didn't need words settle anything.

But Heyes was always there to talk him out of using violence – Heyes, always the more patient of the two and willing to talk things out before taking action. Of course, it worked both ways. It was the two of them working together that got them out of that situation with the bounty hunter. Bent on taking the two outlaws in and collecting the reward, Curry and Heyes both had to do some fancy thinking and fast talking to save their lives. And when a bullet had grazed Heyes, it was the Kid who'd left no stone in town unturned in his quest for the culprit that had shot his friend. 

Those memories and more came to him, forcing the Kid to make the decision that had only seconds earlier been out of reach.

He'd been wrong out on that ridge when he'd decided that going on alone was the best thing to do. Heyes had been right all along – the two of them needed to stay together.

Emotionally drained, Curry realized that there was only one course of action available to him - - No matter what the cost, he couldn't let Heyes be hanged . . .

* * * *

The ride back to the ranch seemed longer then usual that night. The supplies forgotten, he'd spent his time in town investigating the town and, in particular, watching the jail. 

Desperation gnawed at his insides. From the outside, the jail appeared to be well constructed – breaking Heyes out was going to be difficult, at least for Curry. Heyes was the one with the working knowledge of explosives and, given the current state of their friendship, the Kid didn't want to confront his partner again, at least not until he had a rescue plan in mind. 

Curry took a deep breath and tired to calm his ragged nerves. There was still time to come up with a plan. He knew the town and what times during the day the Sheriff was away from the office. Both he and Heyes had been in and gotten out of worse situations.

Back at the ranch, he discovered that Amelia was out. Curry slumped down in the chair by the fireplace and continued to wrestle with his troubled thoughts. Not long after, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. 

A faint sound broke the stillness. The Kid immediately tensed, his hand moving with lightening speed to the gun at his side.

Curry's eyes opened and he looked up. It was Amelia; her eyes open wide with surprise, watching him nervously. "Thaddeus?" 

Curry let out a breath. The look of fear on the woman's face told him that some sort of explanation for his behavior was needed. 

"I – I'm sorry," he said, gently slipping the gun back in the holster. "I was in town today – saw the gallows . . ."

Her expression softened, becoming more sympathetic. 

"Got me rattled," he continued. 

"I should have known," she whispered, her manner becoming more relaxed. "That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you, Thaddeus, you're a good 

man . . . a decent man. Not like those animals in town who think that a hanging is the only way to settle things." She gave him a light kiss and squeezed his arm. "I'll get supper started . . . you rest . . ."

Then he was alone again. The irony of her words hit him. Except for Heyes, not too many people considered Kid Curry to be either good or decent. And as for the rest he needed - -

At that moment, The Kid doubted that he'd ever rest again . . .

* * * *

Later the next day, Curry had just finished the last of the chores when Amelia rushed into the house, her cheeks red and her face flushed. 

"Thaddeus! There's something terrible happening, you have to do something! They're going to hang that man in the jail – tonight - -"

"What?" Curry grabbed the hysterical woman by the shoulders to steady her. 

She nodded, swallowing hard. "It's true - Mary Carson heard about it when she was in town today! Sheriff Madison's thinking about it, said it would save the town from spending money on a trial!"

Curry swore under his breath. There wasn't time to make any plans – he'd have to break Heyes out - - the hard way – -

An hour later, Curry's horse was on the main road to Red River, traveling at a fast gallop. He hadn't taken much – just a couple of bedrolls, a small supply of food and a few small tools that might come in handy. 

In the end, he'd given very little thought to Amelia, who had watched silently while the Kid made his hasty preparations for departure. So caught up in the whirl storm of events surrounding Heyes, he'd given little thought about the vague responses that he'd given to her questions about when he'd be back. 

"You be careful," she said softly. 

He paused at the door and took one last look at the woman and the life he was leaving behind.

Then Amelia was beside him. She kissed him hard. Curry held her for a moment, contemplating the finality of what he was doing. A lesser man would have taken what she was offering without hesitation. But he couldn't use her like that.

She pulled away, reaching for the palm of his hand. He looked down. Amelia pressed the freshly cut rosebud into his hand, wrapping her hand around his.

"I know it's silly, but I want you to take it with you," she said, her voice breaking. "As a reminder, to hurry home, because I'll miss you so - -"

Curry nodded wordlessly. He thrust the blossom into his pocket and left.

On the road to Red River, a new set of problems began to prick at the Kid. He had no idea how he was going to get to Heyes and, even worse yet, of how he'd handle things later on. Even if he managed to get his friend out of jail, there seemed to be little hope of repairing their tattered friendship or returning to their old life.

__

Time enough to settle all that later . . . Curry thought. He fought hard to force the troubling thoughts from his mind and concentrate instead on getting to Red River before the hanging took place.

Later, as his horse galloped into town, the Kid could sense that a change had come over Red River. There was something different about the sights and sounds of a town when a lynching was imminent. Fear, anger, Curry could smell them in the air. The intensity of emotions draped themselves over the town like a heavy shroud.

The mob was outside of the saloon. The sheriff stood on the steps of the bawdy Mecca of entertainment, trying to contain the ugly mood that was spreading through the crowd like an infection. 

"I say we hang him now!" One of the men shouted belligerently. "We don't need any gallows, we can string him up on one of them trees!"

A rumble of agreement traveled through the mob. 

"You with us, Sheriff, or not? Not that it matters any 'cause there ain't nothin' you can do to stop us!"

The weak-willed lawman nervously moistened his lips. The idea of the hanging didn't bother him. It was the damage that would come to the town later. Fueled by whiskey and boredom, the long time sheriff knew that a hanging alone would not satisfy the men assembled around him. 

Curry slowed his horse, bringing the tired animal to a halt at a safe distance from the mob. Now wasn't the time to attract any attention. He patted the horse affectionately before quietly disappearing into an alley that he hoped would provide the secrecy he needed to accomplish his task. 

First stop was the livery stable where he secured fresh horses. Then, finally, he stood in the shadows outside of the jail. He dreaded having to face Heyes again. The Kid rested his hand on the hilt of his gun. An awful realization hit him - it was possible that based on their last meeting, he'd have to use his gun on Heyes as well as the lynch mob. 

At that moment, the sound of loud voices shattered the eerie calm around him and Curry realized that the mob was heading towards the jail.

__

It's too late to have second thoughts now . . . the Kid thought grimly. One way or another, he was busting Heyes out of that jail – even if he had to use force on his friend to do it.

With renewed determination, Curry thrust open the door. 

"Heyes!" He whispered urgently into the darkness. For an awful moment, the Kid felt his heart skip a beat as he listened for a response. 

An uneasy silence was the only reply.

Curry took a shaky breath to calm his ragged nerves. "Heyes!" He called out louder as each step brought him closer to the cell area.

He stopped short of the arched doorway and stared into the cell, his eyes adjusting to the poor illumination provided by the fading daylight.

Heyes was there, his back facing towards Curry. The dark-haired outlaw's face was pressed against the bars covering the small cell window. The shouting of the approaching mob grew louder and Curry saw Heyes' hands tighten on the bars.

Finally his friend spoke, his voice tense and wary. "What are doing here?" 

"I came to stop a hanging – your hanging, in particular." The Kid replied curtly.

Heyes turned and faced him. "The first thing I'm going to do when I get out of here is kill you." He said the words with a determination that left Curry with no doubt as to the sincerity of their meaning.

"I know," The Kid answered quietly as he struggled not to react to the threat. He decided to try and use his friend's hatred to his advantage. "But you won't have the satisfaction of doing that unless we work together to get you out of here." 

The suggestion caught the dark-haired outlaw off guard. "You're suggesting we call a truce?"

"Well that depends on you and how bad you want a chance at me." Curry replied in a cold voice. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Heyes' mouth. "You're playing a losing hand, Kid," he warned in a low voice. "Let's get moving . . ."

With the shouting mob almost upon them, the passing seconds seemed to crawl by like an eternity to curry as he and Heyes worked on the lock. Then, suddenly, the door was opening and Heyes stepped out of the cell, a free man.

Heyes shot towards the desk and began frantically opening the drawers. He hit pay dirt with the third one, taking out a rolled up gun belt. 

Curry stepped back warily, deciding that, truce or no truce, it was better to put some distance between the two of them. 

The Kid was relieved when Heyes, gun in place at his side, took the lead at the door. For the time being, it was just like the old days, with the two of them focusing all their energies on getting out of town alive. 

Heyes eyed the mob and spoke. "We're going to have to blast our way out – you ready?"

"Ready. I stopped at the livery stable before coming here. Follow the alley. I've got fresh mounts waiting for us there. I'll cover you - -"

Guns blazing, Curry and Heyes made their escape. The alley was littered with debris. The two outlaws used that to their advantage, overturning anything in their path that might slow down their pursuers.

A short time later, they were on their horses, galloping at a furious pace out of Red River. 

* * * *

They traveled for hours until both the riders and the horses were on the brink of exhaustion.

The Kid could feel the estrangement between himself and Heyes as they set up camp under a secluded overhang tucked under the rocky hillside. The tension between the two was so intense that it made Curry's nerves stand on end. 

Heyes said little as he rubbed down the horses and got them settled for the night. The silence between them was unusual. 

Curry hoped that was a good sign. _Maybe Heyes is having second thoughts about killing me . . ._

No matter what Lom Trevors or anyone else said, the Kid refused to believe that Heyes would deliberately harm him. Working together, the two had overcome a multitude of obstacles. There'd been arguments along the way. But nothing serious enough to shake the bond of unity between them. The Kid took a deep breath. His mind was racing to think up a way to repair whatever damage had been done to their friendship. 

Curry knelt on the ground and began preparing the fire. He made quick work of it, snapping the wood that had been gathered sharply with all of the nervous energy that he'd been trying to keep inside. 

That's when he heard it – the soft click of a hammer being pulled back - -

"This is it, _friend_ . . ." It was Heyes, his sarcastic voice taunting Curry from behind. 

Curry swallowed hard, not daring to move a muscle.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Heyes," The Kid finally replied steadily, in as calm a voice as he could muster. "I never figured you as the kind of person who would shoot a man in the back."

"I could say the same thing about you and the way you ran out on me." 

"I didn't run out on you - -" Curry was slowly getting to his feet, making sure to keep his hands clear of the gun holstered at his side. "Don't end it like this, Heyes – - not after all the years of friendship we've shared." 

"Save your breath, Kid," Heyes spat back venomously. "The last thing I want to hear is any more talk about our friendship! Anything that we shared is dead – it died the day you ran out on me." 

Now face to face with Heyes, Curry saw the expression on his friend's face change. Heyes' hand tightened on the gun. The anger faded and was replaced by something more disturbing – an excited anticipation of Curry's imminent demise. Curry felt tiny rivulets of perspiration run down the sides of his face as he tried to control his heightening emotions.

Heyes' breathing quickened. An intense feeling of satisfaction coursed through his body as he savored the Kid's obvious discomfort. "Don't get me wrong, friend. I'm mighty obliged to you for getting me out of that jail. But that doesn't change a thing between us."

Curry's gun hand flexed, and then moved slightly, coming to a rest on the hilt of his weapon. The idea of having to use a gun on his friend repulsed Curry. But there didn't seem to be any other way out. The bitter man in front of him, hell bent on taking revenge, bore little resemblance to the man he knew before.

"You're good with a gun, Heyes, but you can't outdraw me and you know it," Curry said desperately. "So why don't we talk about this, sensible like?"

Heyes shook his head. "No deal, Kid." His face broke out into a twisted smile. "You know, I don't remember saying anything about giving you a chance to draw, now did I?"

The implication of his friend's words sent a chill up Curry's spine. 

"Drop the gun belt, Kid," Heyes continued, his voice low and menacing. "And toss it over here, nice and easy like . . ."

Curry swallowed hard. Trapped with no way out, his outlaw instinct for survival finally kicked in. With one fluid movement, the Kid's gun was out of the holster.

The gun barked once. Heyes' face twisted in agony as his firearm dropped to ground. 

Curry grimaced at the drops of blood he saw soaking through the sleeve of his partner's shirt. He felt suddenly weak as the intense emotions that he'd been feeling drained out of him. 

Used to living by his wits, Heyes didn't hesitate to use his partner's momentary weakness to his advantage. Consumed by a murderous rage, Heyes lunged forward, his hands tightening around Curry's throat. 

Locked in mortal combat, the two men grappled viscously with each other. It was almost impossible for the Kid to fight back. Heyes had become a frenzied animal, foaming at the mouth at the prospect of ending his friend's life.

The idea of dying didn't frighten Curry – he'd looked death in the eyes too many times for that. It was the betrayal of those he'd counted on as being friends that pained him. Lom Trevors, who given Curry this so called "second chance" at life – had Trevors known that this is how the Kid's new beginning would end? And Heyes – dying at the hands of his friend was an end that Curry had never imagined possible.

The two of them had been gamblers all their lives. Gambled that with each robbery, they could escape with their haul unscathed. Gambled that turning over a new leaf would somehow pay off in the end. 

But the dealer in the game of life was fickle and Curry's bluff had been called. He'd been wrong to make that wish for a life apart from Heyes. So wrong - - and now he'd never have a chance to try and make things right again - -

The world around the Kid began to fade in and out as the pressure on his throat increased. His strength was waning. Soon he'd have to give up the fight against Heyes' hate-fueled energy. 

"No - - Heyes - - No - -" Curry thrashed feebly. 

"Don't die on me yet," Heyes continued. "I want to enjoy this moment for as long as I can - -"

"Heyes," Curry gasped. "For God's sake, don't do this - -" 

His torment grew worse with each passing second. The Kid sucked in a painful breath as his air starved lungs made their final attempt to survive.

"No - -" Using the last of his strength, the agonizing scream tore from Curry's throat.

A satisfied smirk spread across Heyes' face. "See you in hell, Kid _. . ._"

The darkness closed in around Curry, blotting out the light like the snuffing of a candle. The Kid let out a deep breath and felt the life drain out of his body.

"Kid . . ."

His tormentor's voice was calling to him, filtering through the shroud of darkness around him. There was no turning back. He'd lost his fight against Heyes. The only thing left to do was to ignore whatever Heyes was saying and concentrate his efforts on finding relief from the intense pain that was coursing through his body. 

"Kid . . ." the voice continued with persistence. "Kid!"

As he drifted in the darkness, Curry felt a cold drop on his cheek, then another, and another. 

"Snap out of it- -" A note of desperation crept into the voice.

Curry moaned. There was to be no relief, no peace, not even in the final moments of his life.

"Damn you, Thaddeus, don't you die on me!" 

The coldness returned in a downpour. Half opening his eyes, Curry's brow furrowed as he tried to chase away the cobwebs that were clouding his mind. He blinked and the haziness began to fade. 

Someone was watching him. The world around him took on sharper focus and Curry realized that Heyes was the one kneeling over him, still holding the water canteen that he'd just poured on Curry. 

Curry felt his resolve strengthen. He wasn't going to give Heyes another chance at finishing him off. Summoning what little strength he had, Curry's hand shot out and grabbed Heyes' ankle, sending him toppling to the ground. Then he scooped his gun up and was on his feet, the barrel of gun aimed firmly at the still fallen Heyes.

"All right, you want to fight, Heyes, we'll fight – - only this time we do it on my terms!" Curry growled in a ragged voice.

Heyes rubbed a sore place in his back and looked up at his partner, a baffled expression on his face. "Hey – what's the matter with you? What did you do that for?"

The Kid shook his head angrily. "Come off it, Heyes! I'm not going to fall for that. You said you wanted to kill me, so go ahead. Or don't you have the stomach for a fair fight!"

"Kill you?" Heyes started to scramble to his feet, then stopped suddenly when he saw Curry's hand tightening on the trigger. "That knock on the head you took must be worse than I thought." He was moving again, slower this time, knowing that Curry was scrutinizing his every action. "You do remember being hit on the head, don't you? You remember those two deputies that ambushed us, right?"

Curry's thoughts were in a quandary. Heyes was acting like himself again. 

The gun faltered slightly. Heyes took a deep breath and continued speaking hopefully. "Those deputies jumped us, Kid, remember? I thought for sure we were goners but somehow we managed to get the better of them."

__

It's a trick . . . The Kid thought_. It has to be . . . _Yet he couldn't deny that his partner's words seemed genuine. 

Heyes was still talking. "Look, don't take my word for it. Go look down at the base of the rocks there -–you'll see the two of them tied up."

"You show me," Curry replied, waving the gun.

Heyes shook his head. "No, I'm gonna wait right here. You're being ornery, Kid, and quite honestly, you scare me when you're in a mood like this."

Curry slowly moved off, keeping a sharp eye on Heyes while he walked. Just as his friend had said, the two deputies were tied back to back at the base of the overhang where Curry and Heyes had made camp.

He glanced towards the horizon and saw Red River, looking as it had before when he and Heyes had debated as to whether or not they should go there. 

A tidal wave of emotions coursed through Curry. The events of the past few days replayed themselves as he struggled to sort out what was reality and what was a product of his injuries. 

Heyes watched in concern. The struggle of whether to be still and preserve his own life or to intervene in what was happening to his friend was evident on the man's face. 

Curry's eyes shifted back towards his partner. _The fight with Heyes . . . the hanging . . . Amelia . . . _The images continued to cascade in front of him. He'd thought early on that it was a nightmare but still . . . 

Curry took a deep breath. There was only one way to prove what was real and what wasn't . . .

Face to face with Heyes, the Kid holstered the gun and grabbed his partner's arm.

Heyes tensed. 

The Kid glanced down at Heyes' wrist. _There's no blood . . . _No blood on his partner's shirt sleeve. No sign of any injury at all . . .

Heyes cleared his throat nervously. "Find what you were looking for?"

"I . . . I'm not sure." Curry's head was pounding, making it hard to think. Seeing the proof he was seeking in front of him gave the Kid a jolt. 

Overwhelmed by what had gone on before and what he'd just seen and heard, the fight drained out of Curry and he staggered forward.

"Kid!" Heyes reached out to steady his friend. He helped Curry over to the campsite.

Curry leaned back against the rocks. His eyes closed for a moment. _It was a nightmare . . ._ he thought with relief. Suddenly, he felt free from the anxiety that had plagued him for the past few days.

"Here, take some of this. You look like you could use a drink."

The Kid's eyes opened. He hesitated for a moment, and then took the small flask that Heyes was pressing on him. The whiskey stung as it went down his throat.

"Thanks . . ." He murmured.

"Feel like talking about what just happened?" A touch of annoyance had crept into Heyes' voice. "For a minute there, Kid, I thought you were giving serious thought to killing me."

Curry managed a weak smile and nodded. "I was."

"Mind telling me why?" 

"Not now," Curry replied, his face twisted in pain. He was hard pressed to give an explanation for something that he couldn't explain to himself. "Too tired . . . head hurts . . ."

"Well whenever you feel like talking, I'm ready to listen."

There was an awkward silence between the two men as they broke down their camp. Heyes' attempts to draw Curry into any kind of conversation proved to be fruitless. 

With the traces of their campsite removed, the only thing left to do was dispose of the deputies. Curry listened halfheartedly to Heyes' thoughts about their captives. He forced himself to concentrate on the cinch of his saddle. Anything was better than trying to sort through the conflicting thoughts in his mind. But Heyes was determined and finally the Kid was forced to speak up. "Look, Heyes, it doesn't matter to me one way or another what we do with them. Just leave them here – someone will find them eventually." 

"Kid," Heyes chided. "That wouldn't be very nice, not with it bein' Christmas and all."

"You got a better idea?"

"Now that you mention it, I do," Heyes replied lightly. "What if we drop them off at one those ranches we saw on the way in? At least that way we're sure that someone will find them." 

"Whatever you say," Curry replied sharply. His thoughts were still in a jumble, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The fate of the deputies held little interest for him. 

The decision made, Heyes and Curry, with the two deputies following behind, set out towards Red River . . .

* * * *

They resumed their journey at a rapid pace, anxious to make up for lost time. Still, they had to proceed carefully, exercising more caution then they had before. They'd let their guard down once and paid the price by being ambushed. Both men were determined to keep that from happening again.

Numb in mind and spirit, the Kid continued to wrestle with his thoughts. He'd had nightmares before, but this particular dream had left him shaken to the core. He took little notice of his surroundings until Heyes caught his eye and directed Curry's attention to the ranch house that lay a few yards ahead. 

The suffocating feeling that he'd felt earlier returned in full force. It wasn't just any ranch house looming in front of them – it was _his_ ranch house- - the house that he'd shared with Amelia - -

Curry shook his head to clear it. _We must have ridden past this place before . . .That's how it ended up in that nightmare . . ._

"Well, are we gonna do this or not?" Heyes said, annoyed at his friend's distracted attitude.

"This was your idea," Curry snapped. "So hurry up and take care of it so we can move on!"

"All right!" Heyes replied, taking the reins of the two extra horses in his hand. "You gotta snap out of whatever is eatin' at you, Kid, it bothers me when you're this unsociable!"

Curry remained silent, watching intently as Heyes made a final check of the two deputies. After he was certain that their ropes and gags were firmly in place, he urged his horse forward towards the barn. 

Heyes made quick work of his task, securing the lawmen in the barn, among several large bales of hay.

"Been a pleasure having your company, boys," Heyes whispered. "But my friend and I prefer to travel alone."

Meanwhile, the door of the ranch house was opening. Curry started in his saddle. A feeling of déjà vu washed over him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he watched the young woman step outside and glance around nervously.

It was Amelia, her face pale and anxious. Behind her, the glow of candlelight from the house seemed to be beckoning to Curry, seductively trying to lure him in . . . 

The Kid drew in a shaky breath. He was willing to write off the existence of the ranch house as a chance happening, but this latest development couldn't be as easily dismissed.

Then as if sensing his presence, Amelia was looking up at him. The two outlaws had been careful to approach the property from a safe vantage point – discovery wasn't a concern. Even so, he found her gaze unnerving.

There was sadness in the woman's face. For a moment, Curry wondered if he was the cause of that sadness. 

The reality of the situation slammed into him. Amelia was offering him one last opportunity to step back into the life of Thaddeus Jones . . . the life of man who was a husband . . . a rancher . . . A way of living that hadn't appealed to Curry ever before . . . until now. 

Deep inside, a pang of regret began to gnaw at him. Perhaps he'd let his worry over Heyes cast too much influence over his decision to walk away from his new life.

On an impulse, The Kid reached into the pocket of his tan jacket.

The flower that Amelia had given him was still there. He'd forgotten about that, until now. The petals were dry and colorless, the bloom of life long past. A pointed reminder of what his life with Amelia had felt like to him. 

Husband . . . rancher . . . Walking back into that life meant facing up to all of the responsibilities and trappings that went with it. The Kid remembered how the sameness of each day grated at his nerves. And Amelia . . . She was pretty and certainly attentive to him. But he didn't love her and couldn't pretend to. He and Heyes had done many dishonest things in their life but they'd always been as gentlemanly as possible in their dealings with the ladies. Lom Trevors had been right – Amelia was the perfect wife, but, in his heart, he knew that it wasn't fair to either one of them to build a life based on lies.

Curry remained still, his eyes watching intently. Sensing the finality of his decision, Amelia slumped in an attitude of defeat. Then she turned away, in sadness, and disappeared back into the house.

The Kid swallowed hard. His last, fleeting chance was gone. The door closed firmly behind her, sealing off forever the life that he'd lived as a rancher. 

Suddenly, Heyes was at his side again. 

"You okay?" 

Visibly shaken, the Kid took a moment to pull himself together before he turned away. Heyes was staring at him thoughtfully. "Yeah, why?" 

"You're as white as a sheet, Kid, you look like you saw a ghost."

"I . . .I'm not sure, Heyes, I think that maybe I did."

"What?"

"Nothing . . ." The Kid sighed heavily. His body was battered; he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Yet for the first time in many months, Curry felt at peace with the place that he and Heyes occupied in life. 

__

Be careful what you wish for . . . Lom Trevors had said that to him, after he'd visited Heyes in jail. It was only now, after his disturbing foray into a life apart from Heyes, that he saw the wisdom hidden in the lawman's words. He knew, instinctively that the events of Red River would never be explained. Yet at the same time, Curry was grateful for the experience. Without it, the Kid realized that he might never have become content with the life that he and Heyes led. Whether the amnesty came through or not, Kid Curry felt at ease with his place in the world.

"You're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?" Heyes shook his head. His partner's unpredictable change of moods was driving him to distraction. "C'mon, Kid, your mood is changing again and I want to know why!"

An image of the frenzied, manic Heyes surfaced again in Curry's mind. He shivered and pushed the momentary reminder of what might have been away. It would be a long time, if ever, before he forgot about what he'd just experienced. 

The Kid gave his friend a knowing smile. "If I told you, Heyes, you wouldn't believe me." Then he turned away without further explanation to his bewildered partner. "C'mon, let's get out of here . . ." 

The Kid's hand tightened on the reins, scattering the dried flower petals on the ground. 

Then the two outlaws continued their holiday journey to Porterville, leaving Red River, and it's mysteries, behind in a cloud of dust.

The End


End file.
